


Taking Turns

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So. Much. Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Billy's Turn

We blew through the door noisily, hands everywhere, Billy’s voice high-pitched and mine low, Viggo’s soft mumble somewhere between ours—I caught a glimpse of his teeth in a slice of white smile and then I was kissing him, licking those straight teeth while Billy laughed at me and I hummed.

“Shut the door, shut the door,” Billy pleaded, and then he goosed me and I jumped and grinned. I turned my head and grabbed him, biting his neck lightly as our chests thudded together. I heard Viggo kick the door closed and lock it, felt his hands move mine from Billy’s back as he tugged at Billy’s t-shirt.

I stepped back to let Viggo rid Billy of his shirt, then laughed hysterically—Viggo pulled it halfway over Billy’s head and then left it there, so Billy was trapped with his hands over his head and face completely wrapped in thin green cotton. Viggo grinned at me like a fucking mad man and ducked, scooping Billy over his shoulder like a fireman and trotting toward the back of the house. “Into your bedroom,” he said to Billy’s shriek of _where are we going?!?_ and I trotted after, pulling my shirt off, fumbling with my trouser zip.

Billy’s bedroom was dim and neat, the rug empty, the bed made up but rumpled. We’d made it up this morning, Billy and I, put clean fresh sheets on it and then fallen back onto the smooth counterpane and wrinkled it with a quick, tender collision. It wasn’t lit with sunshine, now, but the weird orange glow of a streetlamp outside—dim, but easy to see in, any road. Viggo tossed Billy onto the bed, and we watched as he struggled the rest of the way out of his shirt.

“Twat.” Billy threw the wadded up shirt at Viggo and then walked on his knees to the edge of the bed, to Viggo. “Gonna make you pay for that.” He was laughing, alight, hair on end from energy as much as the mess the t-shirt had made of it. 

I couldn’t resist—I leapt forward and climbed Viggo, wrapping around him like a tree. He felt fantastic, all solidity and muscle and strength, barrel chest and a nice belly under it, I knew, remembered. “Yes! Let’s make Viggo pay!” I bit his earlobe, squeaked when he reached around to slap my arse.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Viggo said. “I think tonight we—” he patted my arse again— “should pay special attention to Billy.” Billy’s eyes went comically round, but he was still coming at us, pushing his jeans down so his cock was freed, already half-hard and I felt my mouth start watering at the sight. Oh, that delicious bit of Billy, how I loved it. Bill got too close to Viggo then, and I couldn’t see it, but I peered over Viggo’s shoulder and watched as Billy lowered his head, bumped his forehead against Viggo’s chest.

“Why me?” he said, setting to work on Viggo’s buttons, batting me away so I had to let go and slide back onto my own two feet. “I don’t deserve such attention,” Bill went on. “Take those off.” He nodded to Viggo’s trousers, so I reached around and began unbutton- and -zipping.

Viggo shrugged off his shirt and I stepped back to let it fall, then forward again to tug at Viggo’s pants till they were wrinkled in stiff folds around his calves. “You’re responsible for us being here, all together like this. You invited me. So I think you _do_ deserve it. I think tonight’s your turn. Don’t you think?” Viggo twisted to look at me, and I sidled around him, wrapped around him from the side now. 

“Billy’s turn _first_ ,” I said, wriggling my own trousers down and kicking them off. “But not just him, tonight.”

“Oh, the greedy young,” Viggo grinned. “But no, I don’t think you have to worry that this—” he poked at my cock and I jumped and giggled— “will go untended. C’mere.” And he was kissing me. His tongue was insistent and warm and large, it filled my mouth very differently from Billy’s, it was wet and thorough and a little intrusive, but nice for all that—I moaned a little, and rubbed against his leg, and opened my eyes halfway to watch Billy watching us. He’d rid himself of the jeans, and sat back on his heels now, tugging at his cock, looking avid and enthralled.

I broke the kiss and reached for him. Viggo said it: “Billy first. Come here, Billy,” but it was me who took his hand and pulled him close. His fingers were nervous and eager in mine. I moved closer to the edge of the bed, in tandem with Viggo, and we formed a triangle, at once loose and tight. Billy turned his head first to Viggo, kissing him deeply. I watched the flash of his pink tongue and how Viggo’s jaw moved lazily against his, how Viggo reached up to cup the back of Billy’s fragile skull in his hand; I slid my hands down two men’s backs, Viggo’s broad and thick, Billy’s narrow and muscular.

Billy turned to me and I leaned forward to meet his mouth, thinking about how Viggo had felt and how Billy felt now, softer lips and tongue, overpowering and passionate but also opening, welcoming. I wondered what it meant, the differences in the ways they kissed, and knew I might sit down and figure it out some time, but not right this minute. I licked at Billy’s small sharp teeth as I had licked at Viggo’s earlier. Felt someone’s hand on my arm—Billy—and another on my arse—Viggo.

I ran my hand down further and squeezed Billy’s arse in a friendly, pass-on-the-love manner. “Hmm,” he sighed, his lips curving against mine. “What’re you going to do t’me?”

“No idea,” I managed, though really the problem was that I had so _many_ ideas that I couldn’t choose one. I kissed my way from his mouth to chin to neck, massaging his arse and reaching belatedly down to give Viggo’s cheeks a good rub, too.

“I have an idea,” Viggo said, and he pulled Billy forward, out from under my mouth and hands. I protested and Viggo grinned, getting Billy on his feet and backing toward the wall. He brought Billy with him, leaned back against the wall and kissed him while I watched.

Fuck, I was hard. I wanted to fuck Billy, wanted to be fucked by him, wanted to suck Viggo and ride him and stick my tongue in every orifice available in that room, and there were lots of them. I stared as Viggo drew Billy in and up, bent to kiss him. Watched the way Billy’s head tipped back as he lifted his chin to meet Viggo’s kiss, the way his hands looked both small and strong resting on Viggo’s biceps.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed, and I moved toward them.

I was halfway there when Viggo turned Billy and pulled him smartly back, Billy’s back slapping against Viggo’s chest. Quick as a wink Viggo hooked his arms up under Billy’s armpits and had him pinned, shoulders pulled taut against Viggo’s broad chest. Billy gaped and then grinned at me. “On your knees, Dominic,” said Viggo and I dropped like a stone and closed the rest of the distance so fast I got carpet-burn on my kneecaps.

“Oh boy,” I think I said, and then I opened my mouth and I leaned forward and I took Billy in so fast and hard that I heard him yelp and then moan: “Oh fuck yes,” he said, and I _mmm_ ’d in agreement and began moving my head up and down, licking as I went, circling the head of his cock with my tongue on each upstroke and then plunging downward again, over and over. “Oh my god,” Billy groaned, bucking forward. I gripped his hips and held him down and continued to work his cock.

“Not too fast, Dom, make it last a few minutes,” and Viggo sounded amused. But fuck him, he didn’t know Billy quite as well as I did. I’d bring him right to the edge and then I’d slow down, dammit. Viggo obviously needed distracting.

I moved one hand, wrapped it around the base of Billy’s cock and tightened—that got me another moan—and went down on my own fingers on the next plunge, wetting them nicely before I let go and reached between Billy’s legs. Billy’s arse—mmm, yeah, and I teased his hole a little before I slid my hand further up, worming it between Viggo’s upper thighs and Billy’s arse until I felt Viggo’s balls, which I gave a healthy tug before moving onward, upward, until I found his cock, pressed tight against the upper curve of my Billy’s beautiful arse. I wrapped my wet fingers around it and began squeezing him in time with my mouth on Billy.

“Dom,” Viggo groaned. He pushed forward into my fist, pushing Billy’s hips forward, choking me a bit. I sputtered and recovered, going back to the slower rhythm I’d had while I searched for Viggo’s cock, pulling gently at him as I sucked Billy, using my free hand to balance against Billy’s hip.

“Looks fucking amazing,” Viggo said, soft and sweet and rough. “Look at you, Billy, all stretched out between us, Dom’s going down on you like a starving man, look at him, Billy, open your eyes—” as though he’d spoken to me, I opened my eyes, blinked upward to see Billy’s face tilt down toward me, eyes half-lidded, gleaming in the dim light. His mouth was half-open, hard little pants coming from his lips. I moaned, moaned around Billy’s cock and wished I could tend to my own neglected erection—it ached like crazy, throbbing with my pulse, hanging there untended and hard as a rock. Viggo’s voice wound on: “Doesn’t he look good? Tell him, Billy, tell him how good he looks, let him hear your voice.”

“Oh fuck,” Billy gasped. His thighs shook and his hips thrust forward slightly; I could feel him shaking with the effort not to jam himself all the way into me, go as deep as he could, as hard as he could. “Look so good, Dom,” he managed to say, “so dirty, so fucking dirty down on your knees and your mouth, fuck you know how I love your mouth—” he groaned _unnnnnhhh_ and surged forward before he got a grip again and came back onto his heels, “wanna fuck your mouth Jesus so bad, wanna fucking shove m’self down your throat, god, Dom, Dom, Dom, fuck, Viggo, fucking let me—”

I pressed my teeth down gently and firmly, nothing like a bite, just a squeeze, but with teeth, and I slid all the way up his shaft to the head, scraping my teeth the whole way. Billy’s voice veered out of control, he wasn’t talking anymore. I let go Viggo’s cock and brought my fingers back down to Billy’s hole again, pressing, circling, still plenty wet to get inside, and no, Billy wasn’t talking at all. The noises coming from his mouth wouldn’t be described by even the more forgiving of linguists as words, and when I glanced up one last time as I slid my finger into his arsehole, I saw Billy’s mouth open wide, head thrown back onto Viggo’s shoulder, the clean arch of his neck and how his hands flailed and then locked white-knuckled onto Viggo’s arms, still holding him, looped under Bill’s armpits. I saw how Billy’s shoulders corded and felt how he surged to the balls of his feet—I lurched forward and up, desperate to keep Billy in my mouth, on my finger, and I bobbed my head fast and hard, no time for tricks with my tongue, just this, the salty tang of pre-come in the back of my mouth and the hard-soft noises Billy was making, Viggo’s silence but for quick, harsh breath. And I sucked, sucked for all I was worth and then I moaned and Billy came, arched and thrusting into my mouth again and again, shuddering hard, clenched tight around my finger.

I held on, rode it out, nearly choking. Swallowed once, twice, and then one last time and after a slow sweet minute let Billy’s softening cock slip from between my lips with an affectionate lick. I pulled my finger gently out of Billy’s body and sank onto my heels, resting my head against Billy’s thigh and reaching to rub my cock a few times.

“Holy fuck,” Billy said. He slid downward with a thump and sat on the floor beside me—I guessed Viggo had let go his arms finally. I leaned over to kiss him, letting him search for and find his own taste on my tongue, letting his hands run lazy tracks along my neck and chest as I groaned a little. When he pulled back, smiling, I bent forward to kiss Viggo’s shin and knee and thigh, rising onto my knees again to lick briefly across the head of his cock. “Want the same treatment?” I asked, letting my head fall back, looking up at him.

He was watching us, watching Billy and me with such a perfectly happy little smile that I couldn’t help but grin back. He shook his head, though. “No, I think it’s your turn next.” He reached his hands down and pulled Billy and I up at the same time, Billy staggering a little but game for more, cupping Viggo’s face in his hands and kissing him for a long, dizzy moment as I watched. “Bed, I think,” Viggo drawled, and Billy turned from him to me, grabbing my hands and smiling like the devil himself.

What can I say? I went willingly.


	2. Dom's Turn

I followed them both to the bed, watching Dom’s face flicker through lust and happiness and anxiety and excitement, watching Billy stumble, colt-legged and uncertain but still energetic, as he led him forward. Bill had always had the most energy, in a very real way, of any of the Fellowship. Not Dom’s twitchy collage of movement, and not Orlando’s exuberant physicality, but a focused, concentrated hum of it. He walked lightly on the earth, did Billy, and even in his current, rubbery-kneed state, the bright burn of life through his veins was visible.

Dom had some of it, but hadn’t learned to channel it, narrow it, hold it inside. He never would learn, probably, would be bouncing and spinning and striking sparks all his life. Tonight, though, I wanted to still those constantly moving hands, wanted Dom to be sprawling and loose and quiet by the end of it. And somehow I’d ended up in temporary charge of this little ménage a trainwreck, so I went about making that picture—Dom, slowed and smooth and still—come true.

“Lie down on your stomach, Dom,” I said, and he clambered onto the bed without question and settled, reaching under himself to adjust his cock—long and flushed and how it had moved with his heartbeat, I’d seen, oh yeah—and looking back over his shoulder at us, grinning his crooked grin.

“Gonna fuck me, then?” 

I saw Billy close his eyes for a bare instant, pausing in his climb to be beside Dom.

I gripped my cock for just a second and rubbed my thumb over the head, gathering the pre-come. “Maybe,” I said. I felt the bed shake when I climbed aboard. “Sit there, by his shoulders,” I told Billy, and he settled cross-legged, leaning down to kiss Dom’s ear affectionately. “That’s good,” I said, “let’s touch him all over.” And I spread Dom’s legs wide and knelt between them and began touching him, rubbing and pressing and massaging his arse and thighs and calves as Billy ran his own small hands over Dom’s back and shoulders and arms. Bill’s motions were long and smooth and firm, and I echoed them. Beautiful to see how well they knew one another, beautiful to be let in for tonight, let into this bed and this partnership they had.

“Look at him,” I said to Billy, pressing my thumbs into the crease between his ass and his thigh. “So open.”

Billy smiled, bending over him, kissing the freckled upper reaches of his back. “I know. He loves it. Loves to be touched. I can hardly touch him enough.” Billy laid his cheek down, slid one hand down Dom’s spine to lace his fingers through mine for a moment, our hands resting on Dom’s lovely bottom. 

“Four hands is about right,” Dom rumbled from under us, and Billy grinned, turning his head to kiss. No, lick, he licked Dom’s back as I watched, broad paintbrush strokes of his tongue.

“Touch whore,” Bill said fondly, pulling his hand from mine with an affectionate press, and he moved up Dom’s back to bite and suck gently on the back of his neck. “Gorgeous little slut,” he murmured, and I felt like an intruder for a moment.

Until Dom pushed his ass into the air an inch. “Where’dja go, Vig,” he slurred.

I laughed. “Right here.” I wanted so much to get inside him, but first I wanted to taste him, open him up. I stretched to get a pillow and stuffed it under Dom’s hips, which he raised accommodatingly. 

I leaned down and began kissing the smooth curves of his buttocks, licking and pressing my lips to his skin as he wriggled and hummed under me. I ran my tongue down the cleft and used my hands to spread his cheeks slightly, pushing forward with my nose and mouth, tasting, seeking, taking. He was incredibly relaxed, all long lean lines and toned curves… and there I was. He giggled breathlessly when my tongue first circled his asshole, then shuddered and relaxed with a deep breath. I wanted to look up, see what Billy was doing, but it was better to let my eyes sink shut, concentrate on the thin, delicate skin beneath my tongue and the trembling muscles against my palms as Dom went from relaxed to slowly, slowly taut.

Then Billy began to talk, a low monologue that fucking near made me start humping the mattress, and I’d thought I was years past that sort of adolescent need, but…

“Wish I had a camera, Dom,” he whisper-spoke, “wish I could show you how fucking good you look, laid out like a banquet and Viggo’s face shoved into your arse, eating out your hole—” that fucking hypnotic lilt of Billy’s— “the wet sound of his tongue fucking your arse, how you look all wound up tight as a perfectly tuned guitar string. Such a slut, my beautiful Dommeh, you spread your legs for him like the slut you are, beautiful, you, so fucking perfect…” Nonsense, a half-dozen syllables for words I’d once thought simple, consonants disappearing like the magician’s beautiful assistant and vowels that made me groan as I tongue-fucked Dom until we were both vibrating with want, until he was grinding into the pillow with his need.

I sat up, sliding my thumb down to press against Dom’s entrance, fingers spread over his ass. “I need a condom,” I said, staring at my hand on his skin, wishing I had my camera to capture how it looked, my hand with a sprinkling of dark coarse hairs on the back, thick blunt fingers, and Dom’s pale gold skin, lightly freckled and muscular, curved and perfect, as Billy’d said, just perfect.

Billy kept one hand flat on Dom’s back as he knelt and turned away, opening the nightstand table and pulling out a flat cellophane package. “Have at him,” he said, handing me the condom. He didn’t watch as I opened the paper and rolled it on—taking my hand off Dom was difficult—instead he straddled Dom’s back and then rolled to his other side. “On your knees, Dominic,” Billy said, and I wasn’t about to protest—if Bill wanted to direct I would follow.

“Why’d you move over there?” I asked. “And do I need lube?” I felt my brain starting to go up in flames as I watched Dom surge to his hands and knees, examining the way the long lines of his back and thighs were suddenly presented to me, the way his head hung down between his up-thrust shoulder blades. The way Billy reached under to grasp Dom’s cock in one neat-fingered, confident hand.

“He doesn’t need lube, no. And I moved over here,” he lasered in on me with those eyes, black in this light but I imagined the green anyway, “because I’m right-handed, and I want to do this—” he pulled and Dom groaned and laughed— “while you do him.”

“Okay.” I slipped one finger into Dom but I didn’t really think he needed that, either, and when I looked at Billy he shook his head, smiling slightly. So I knelt and positioned myself. I licked my fingers and ran them around the head of the condom anyway, just to be sure, then I gripped Dom’s hips—sharp, narrow, hard bone under thin skin—and breached him slowly.

Billy was doing something underneath Dom, and I felt him shiver and then relax. He felt fantastic around my cock—tight and hot and wet enough to make it easy, not so wet that I lost friction. “What do you want, Dom?” I asked.

“I want…” I could barely hear him, and his voice trailed off into nothingness as I pushed forward all the way, groaning a little myself.

“Tell me, what do you want?” I pulled back and then pushed forward again, slowly, watching the muscles in his back ripple like water, watching how his head hung lower still, how the soft strands of his hair parted at the nape of his neck. “Tell me, Dominic.”

Billy angled his body toward me, slid his free hand along Dom’s back and then up my belly and chest. “He wants it however you want it,” Billy said, smiling at me. He leaned forward and we kissed as I stroked inside Dom—Billy’s hand was hard and sure on the back of my head and I shivered, made some noise into his mouth in acknowledgment, thrust slightly instead of just stroking. Billy pulled back a fraction of an inch. This close I really could see the green of his irises, dark and almost eclipsed by his pupils. He’d tasted of nothing but himself, the wet-water taste of a mouth that has been kissed often and deeply in recent memory. “He wants it hard,” Billy murmured, and I knew he meant _You want it hard_ and I knew he was right. Knew he wanted to see it as well and I nodded and swiped my tongue along Billy’s perfect little bow of an upper lip.

“Fuckin’ do it,” Dom sighed, and I bent my head and did, I fucked him. Started slow with that little slap at the end of each stroke and Jesus he felt so incredible around my cock... I went faster, slapped harder, and the only sounds I could hear were the wet ones of me in his ass and the dry ones of my breath, coming fast and shallow.

It went on for a long time, Billy’s eyes flicking from my face to where my hips slapped against Dom’s ass, then to Dom’s back, shoulders, neck, arms. Hands, curling into the bedspread in tight, gorgeous fists. And all the while Billy kept doing whatever he was doing down there, out of sight below Dom’s belly; I closed my eyes for a minute and pictured it, the strong narrow fingers gripping Dom’s rock-hard cock, sliding up and down, tight, almost cruel... Dom began grunting with each thrust, low soft noises that made me want to, want to, want to—

“Do it,” Billy murmured and I lifted my hand and slapped Dom’s ass so hard he yelped. I stared at the red hand print on his fair skin and wobbled on the edge of remorse but then he shoved himself back to meet my next stroke. “That’s it,” Billy said, his right arm moving rhythmically, hand out of sight beneath Dom. He shifted slightly, ran his free hand along Dom’s back to his neck, scratched lightly at Dom’s hair and I felt the hair on the back of my own neck stand up in sympathy, another little sensation to add to the catalog. 

“Talk more, Billy,” I said, and I slapped Dom’s ass again, gasping at his low moan. I sped again—I could feel my orgasm warming me, getting close. The whole night had been one long tease, and I wanted to come so badly, but I wanted to feel Dom come first—this was for him, after all. Wasn’t it? 

Billy’s right arm pumped faster and he leaned down to speak against Dom’s back, threading his fingers further into the silky blonde hair. “He wants me to talk, Dommeh. Wants me to talk about you, get you there. Wants to feel you come, clench around his dick in your arse, Dominic—” Dom made an unintelligible noise, too low to be a whimper but too desperate to be anything else— “oh yes, Dom, that’s what he wants, wants to fuck you good and proper, split you, get you, fuck you—” he hissed it and pulled Dom’s head up and back gently, his hand twisted in Dom’s hair. Dom arched his back, let Billy drag his head upward and I leaned down, shifted the angle till Dom began sounding, harsh little sobs on each thrust—I knew I’d found his prostate then and I closed my eyes, shutting out the erotic perfection of what I saw—Dom’s sway-backed arch, face turned to the ceiling as Billy held his head up and back, and Billy’s face, hard and soft at once, completely absorbed in Dom, in his reactions to every pull and twist and squeeze of the hand on his cock and the hand in his hair. I had to close my eyes, or come right there. Billy’s voice never stopped, even when I groaned in protest of my own request, it just wound on and on, deceptively sweet and high: “Feel it, don’t you, Dom, feel it all over your body. Viggo wants to come but he wants you to do it first, and I want it too, pretty soon, now, Dommeh, you’re gonna come all over my hand, gonna shake and sweat and scream, aren’t you?” I opened my eyes to see Billy yank sharply on Dom’s hair: “Aren’t you?”

“Yes—” Dom’s voice was hoarse, unrecognizable, really— “please please fucking please yes harder harder—”

I did as Dom said, stared at the muscles of his shoulders, defined like a line drawing of anatomy. Slamming into him until I was making noise with each thrust, too, hard little noises that hurt my throat and felt wonderful, all at once. Dom turned his head slightly back and forth, not trying to shake Billy’s hand off, but pushing into it, asking for more. I got a glimpse of his face, agonized and sweaty, clenched tight in pleasure, then I bent my head again, pounded him as though I wanted to kill him, seeing Billy’s quick moving arm and the curve of his narrow chest beside Dom’s back from the corners of my eye, seeing Dom’s back flex and stretch right below me.

“Now,” Billy said, short and sharp, “come for us, Dom,” and Dom yelled, long and harsh and grating, and his whole body shook and clenched around mine, again and again. I pounded him right through that orgasm and into my own, digging my fingernails into his skin harder than I meant to, gripping him, holding him hard, holding myself as deep into him as I’d ever been into anyone, man or woman, as my orgasm washed me, tumbled me, turned me inside out and left me gasping and groaning.

I felt Dom sliding down and I went with him, gently as I could, catching my weight on my hands and settling onto him like a blanket, then slipping out to lie beside him.

When I opened my eyes, it was to meet Billy’s, half-lidded and almost sleepy, smiling at me across Dom’s broad flat back. Dom had his face turned toward me, eyes closed and a beatific smile on his face, made even more crooked than usual by the pull of the mattress on his skin. I’d gotten my wish—he was still, sprawled out bonelessly and not jiggling even a little.

I left one arm and leg over Dom’s back and legs, respectively, and breathed for a while. Billy snuck his hand over Dom’s back to take mine, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles lightly. I’d noticed before that although Billy could be very still, his hands seldom were.

The condom was beginning to irritate me, and I thought about reaching down to take it off. Sighed instead and stayed where I was. “That was my turn, too,” I mumbled.

Billy squeezed my hand, and Dom opened his eyes a crack. “Oh, no.” He lifted his head and let it drop again, more comfortably I presumed. “That was all for me.” His smile was wicked and slow, Billy’s quick and amused behind him.

“I’ll die if you do anything more to me,” I said, almost serious.

“C’mon.” Billy sat up, rubbing at his thin hair till it stood up all over his head.

Dom sat up next, and pulled me up, snagging the condom between two fingers and slipping it off as I yelped. “Can’t believe you still had that on,” he shuddered, grinning as he dropped it carefully into the trashcan under the nightstand.

“Where are we going?” I allowed myself to be pulled to my feet. “And why do you both want to kill me?”

“We’re going to take a shower,” Billy said. “And I promise we don’t want to kill you.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I went willingly. What can I say? It would be a hell of a way to die.


	3. Viggo's Turn

I went about getting the water running and hot. Of the three of us, I was probably the one least exhausted. I was, in fact, feeling rather energetic—what I’d just seen had reawakened me in several senses of the word. I wanted to give to Viggo something of what he’d given to me, and something of what he’d given to Dom. I wanted to make him shake and shiver and come again. 

And then of course I wanted to fuck him, too. There was that.

“In you go,” I said, and watched as Dom stepped in, reaching for Viggo’s hands, smiling at me over the Viggo’s shoulder. 

“You know, I am a bit older than both of you,” Viggo said. 

“You ever listen to Alice’s Restaurant, Viggo?” I asked, joining them under the spray. I grabbed the soap and squeezed a dollop onto the scritchy soft pouf Dom had given me.

“‘You can get anything you want, at Alice’s Restaurant,’” Viggo sang softly, raising one eyebrow at the pouf. “You have all the proper accessories.”

“Was a gift. From the girliest of the hobbits, but goddamned if I don’t like it anyway.” I rubbed till I got lather and then ran the implement over Viggo’s chest. 

Dom squawked. “Oi there, you twat, Lijah’s the girliest of the hobbits.”

“Second girliest of the hobbits, then,” I said, reaching round Viggo to swat Dom. “With honours, for wearing the most eyeliner and nail varnish. Anyway.” I continued washing Viggo, and Dom wrapped his arms round him from the back, swaying in place in a slow dance that looked quite pleasant. “Arlo Guthrie has a nice line in that song, the long version, you understand—”

“—They got a building down New York City, it’s called Whitehall Street, where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected,” Viggo interrupted unexpectedly, in a perfect Arlo Guthrie drawl, and I giggled.

“Precisely. So there’s a line in the long version where he’s not really telling the story, he’s just strumming along, talking about how long the song’s gone on, and he says ‘I’m not proud.’ Then there’s a long pause… ‘or tired.’ And that, Viggo, is my motto. I’m not proud… or tired.” I’ve soaped his chest and belly, his shoulders and neck and arms and hands, and now I get my hands nice and lathery and put the pouf aside, move down to his cock. “We’ll take the time to make you feel young again, my lad.” I soaped him up quite thoroughly.

“I thought your motto was ‘Fuck the rest of you, I’ve got porn and whisky,’” Dom said. He reached for the pouf and started washing Viggo’s back.

“My motto for _tonight_ is ‘I’m not proud or tired,’” I replied crossly. “The other one is for when you lads want to go to some fucking club where I can’t hear and the music’s some shite mixed by a lad Elijah’s age and there are no naked women.”

“Or men.” Viggo smiled.

“Or them either,” I agreed. “But women dance better, in those nudie bars.” I paid special, close attention to Viggo’s cock and balls, gentle because I knew he was probably still sensitive. “As I was saying,” I directed a glare at Dom, “I’m not proud, or tired, and we have a while before I’ll admit defeat. Even if you are an old man.” And I squeezed and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, one arm around his neck and the other pressed between us, fingers still slippery soapy on his cock.

Viggo kissed… aggressively, no other word for it. Dom does, too, sometimes; Dom is all long sneaky tongue and he’ll try to taste my tonsils when he’s in the mood for it, but Viggo seemed more intent on sweeping his tongue through every crevice of my mouth, and he had soft, sensual lips and a pushy, powerful tongue. 

So I opened myself up to it—no point in not, and plenty of pleasure there, too—and hummed a little, appreciative, and then more when Dom’s arms came around us both, holding us, his fingers running up and down my waist while Viggo’s hands kneaded my arse.

“I don’t think Dom’s feeling any too tired, either,” Viggo said when we broke away from one another to breathe, and then his face jumped, a little, and I figured Dom’d goosed him. Or possibly given evidence that he wasn’t too tired—it had been a good twenty minutes, after all, and he was young enough, the youngest of us three. Viggo looked down at me, then, and laughed. “And neither are you, you horny little Scot.”

I blushed, but he was right—and then again, why shouldn’t I be half hard again? Sure, I’d been pressed against Viggo’s front with Dom on his knees before me… I hardened a bit more at the thought of it… but that was, what? An hour ago? Something. Long enough that I thoroughly enjoyed the prospect of having another chance at an orgasm tonight.

“What can I say?” I shrugged.

“That you’re not proud, or tired,” Dom said impatiently. “So what’re we going to do to him, Bills?” Viggo twisted out of my hands to face Dom, grinning suddenly, that kamikaze grin that makes him so hard to predict. 

“Why ask him?” Viggo grabbed Dom’s arms—I reached down to stroke my cock absently, fuck they looked good together—and licked Dom, from chin to forehead. “Why not ask me what I want?”

Dom sputtered and squinched his face up tight, and I laughed. “Fuck off, Billy,” Dom spat, and I laughed harder. “And you, Mortensen—yeah, it’s your turn, but trust me. You should just, uh.” Dom glanced at me and my heart did a little flip-flop, like it sometimes does with Dom, laughter and love and heat and lust all tangled up so nicely; Dom licked his lips and finished. “You should just trust _him_. He’ll get you there.”

Viggo kissed him, rough and sweet and deep, and then looked from him to me. “Yeah, I can believe that,” he said finally. “I’ll trust him.”

I felt my belly clench and then relax. “You already trust me,” I said.

“I do.” He looked back and forth between Dom and I again. “Just gotta look at you and Dom to trust both of you.”

“Fucking greeting card moment,” Dom said after a minute, and I grinned.

So did Viggo. He looked pointedly down at his still-limp dick. “So I trust you, but I’m still not hard,” he said. “What’re you going to do about that?”

“Don’t worry.” I leaned down to kiss his chest, biting gently at one nipple as his hand settled firmly on the back of my head. “We’ll put the steel back in the old sword.”

“Reforged, from the shards of fucking Dominic,” Dom intoned. “Ow ow ow!” Viggo had hold of him with his free hand, I guessed, but I didn’t look up from sucking on his nipples. 

“Let’s all rinse off,” I murmured when Dom’s yelping abated a wee bit, and I backed up, bringing Viggo and then Dom with me under the spray. 

It felt brilliant, wet and hot and slick. Acres of skin, and I kissed first Viggo and then Dom until I was dizzy with it. “Good?” I asked Dom, murmuring into his ear, and he bit my neck for reply. I read that as “very good, indeed” and grinned a bit. Found myself trapped between Viggo and Dom, hands slipping sliding over my body and I laughed as I gasped. “Careful there,” I said to no one. I was fully hard now, but knew Viggo probably needed more time. Or more stimulation. With that in mind I spent some time sliding against Dom under his appreciative gaze, and certainly contact with Dominic is seldom wasted on anything but pleasure. Made to please, that lad is, and I admired him suitably, pressing back against Viggo all the while and loving the feeling of being surrounded, enclosed, protected.

“Stop, stop,” I moaned finally, and laughed more, and Dom did stop. I turned around to face Viggo, pressing our chests together. I liked how tall he was—never minded having partners taller than me, which is lucky I suppose. Only in Japan had I ever felt taller than average. Viggo bent to kiss me again, moving a little faster, and I shoved myself against him. “Are you getting hard again or am I imagining things?” I murmured, feeling the nudge of his cock against my pelvic bone. Dom slapped against me from behind and I grunted and snickered.

“Billy sandwich!” Dom proclaimed, and he and Viggo squashed me between them in a way that was positively asphyxiating, all of us laughing breathlessly. I was bone hard, now, my erection crushed wonderfully between Viggo’s thighs, and I felt that Dom was in the same situation, from the uncomfortable jab of his cock against my arse.

“So Vig,” I gasped, when they let me breathe again, “can I…?” I slid my arms around his waist, ran my hands over his arse. Pushed my fingers between his cheeks and pressed suddenly against his hole with one finger. 

He yipped a little and bucked against me, fingers scrabbling for purchase as I clamped my arms around him and held him tightly, grinning up into his face. “Yeah—” he said breathlessly. “When I said I trusted you, I meant it. Just go easy. I don’t, uh, hmm, how to say this…”

“Take it up the arse?” Dom suggested oh-so-politely.

“Exactly. Don’t ‘take it up the arse’ all that often.” Viggo smiled sweetly at him, over my shoulder, and Dom rubbed against me with all the restraint of a university student in a red-light district.

“Course we’ll go easy on you,” I murmured, distracted. “Let’s, ah, let’s go back to the bed.”

Getting there was a long and complicated process, involving much laughter and arse-slapping, not to mention towel-snapping. Vaguely dry and at full enthusiasm levels, we tumbled onto the bed ten minutes later in a heap of arms and legs and stiff pricks.

“What’re we going to do to him?” Dom asked me again, after we’d twisted around a bit and got comfortable, Viggo between us and half-covered by Dom’s long, athletic body, me tucked comfortably against his other side.

“I feel like a prostitute,” Viggo announced.

“You look like the King of Gondor, all cuddled up with the choicest members of his harem,” Dom retorted, and it was true—Viggo reclined on his back, all smooth chest and lean thighs and broad shoulders, with two men sprawled over and beside him.

“I need more stubble,” he said, smiling.

Dom slid his fingers down to scratch through the thatch of soft brown hair between his legs. “Plenty here, m’lord.”

Viggo snickered and twitched and one of his hands wandered down Dom’s back to pinch his arse. “Uppity hobbit,” he said.

Dom lifted himself off Viggo to display his hard-on. “And how!”

I laughed. “Alright, alright, Dom obviously wants some attention, and you—” I pinched Viggo’s nipple lightly— “could do with some as well.”

“And you?” Viggo asked. 

I leaned over to lick his ear. I’d seen that Viggo liked my accent—known it for a long time, though it’d certainly been some time since we’d done anything remotely like this together. “I am going to open you up and fuck you till you forget what oxygen tastes like,” I murmured, and Viggo turned his head to look right at me, smiling. His eyes were grey, changeable like my Dom’s, and the room was bright enough, with the streetlamp outside and the light from the loo, to see them gleaming like clear water. 

“I think I’d like that,” he said.

“You will,” Dom answered for me, and pulled Viggo toward himself for another long, wet kiss. Viggo turned obediently onto his side, away from me. I smiled at Dom and watched his eyes sink shut, his beautiful hands come up to massage Viggo’s biceps.

Confronted by a metric acre of Viggo’s beautiful back, I kissed him in a leisurely fashion, then rolled away to rummage through the night table. Lube—odour- and taste-free, as Viggo already smelled so nice from our shower and the slow tide of sex that was beginning to rise in the room once more—and a condom.

I pressed against Viggo and began running my hands all over his skin as he and Dom grew more involved in one another. Dom was beginning to moan, Viggo’s hands seeking his cock out, stroking and teasing. I leaned further over and saw that Dom’s hands were just as busy. “Turn round, Dom, get him in your mouth,” I murmured, and Dom didn’t even open his eyes, just made a pleased sound into Viggo’s chest and began to crawl downward. “No, no, turn round,” I said gently, and he opened his eyes, then, and smiled.

“Well then,” he said. A moment later he had Viggo deep in his mouth and Viggo was licking contentedly at Dom’s erection. I stayed where I was for a few moments, leaning over Viggo’s side and enjoying the two of them, my hands still stroking all over Viggo, straying occasionally to Dom’s warm, smooth skin.

Then I reached for the lube. Wetting my fingers quite thoroughly, I began sliding them up and down the inviting cleft of Viggo’s arse. He shivered and let his head fall back. “I don’t—” He stopped.

“Don’t what?” I pressed with the flat of my finger, soft strokes across the top of his hole. “Tell me. Should I stop?” I was ready to. If sodomy isn’t your regular exercise, it can be uncomfortable, and above all I wanted Viggo to enjoy what we could give him.

“I don’t think I can suck Dom off while you do that,” he said.

I laughed. “Is that all?”

Dom lifted his head, letting Viggo’s cock slide from his red mouth with a pop. “Don’t worry, Viggo, you just lie back and enjoy what Billy and me are doing, and I’ll give you a show as well.”

I smiled and kissed Viggo’s shoulder with my open mouth. “Open your eyes, Viggo, and relax.”

He did, and saw, no doubt, Dom’s fingers wrapped around his own cock, stroking himself off while he sucked enthusiastically on Viggo. I heard and felt the older man’s groan, and chuckled as his head fell to the mattress heavily. “Oh, fuck,” Viggo sighed.

“Getting there,” I said, and I bit his shoulder firmly and slid one finger inside, slick and smooth as silk.

“Hnnnnh,” he said. 

“Mm-hmm.” I twisted it around for a bit, then pulled out and slid in two. The wet noises Dom was making were positively obscene, and my cock was beginning to leak pre-come, slow, slippery beads forming at the tip and rolling down to be smear against the back of Viggo’s thigh. “Soon, now, Viggo,” I murmured. “Want to get inside you. Bet you’re tight, like a fucking cherry. Can’t wait to feel you all hot and tight around me.” I curled my fingers and searched for the sweet spot. Knew I’d found it when he shuddered and sighed.

“Keep talking,” Viggo said, and I heard Dom gurgle from between his legs.

“Y’like that, hmm?” I stroked his prostate again and again, until the muscles in his back corded and twitched. “So quiet yourself, Viggo, I’d never have guessed. Look at you, getting so worked up. Relax.” I pulled my fingers out and felt his protest. Smiled and licked across the nape of his neck as I slid three fingers into him. “Tight, yes, but you’re open enough, aren’t you love? Almost ready for me. Plenty of time, though.” I scissored my fingers as best I could and lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses across his shoulder blades. “I’m still not proud… or tired.” I began moving my fingers in and out, pleased when he moved back against me, pressing for more. “Oh, so gorgeous, so gorgeous…” I needed it, needed to get inside him before my balls got any tighter with want. “Suck on our lovely Dom for a moment, won’t you?” He inhaled sharply at the loss of my fingers, but I needed to ready myself. I sat up and tore open the condom, watching from the corner of my eye as Viggo leaned forward and licked over Dom’s fingers and cock, pushing his lips over that flushed and rosy length.

I looked down and rolled the condom on carefully. I don’t really like them, but only with Dom would I go without, and him with me. Otherwise we’re always careful. Once suited up, I reached for the lube again and squeezed a generous dollop over the latex, shivering at the cool jelly, even through the condom. I leaned again over Viggo, sucking at his neck, nudging my cock gently to his puckered little opening. “Are you ready?”

He let his head fall back down, and Dom went to his enjoyable task with renewed enthusiasm. “Yes,” Viggo said. I pressed inward slightly and he inhaled deeply. “Talk to me.”

I raised my eyebrows and spoke as I pressed forward, though the tight-hot clamp of his body was almost enough to make English obsolete. “Talk to you, god, don’t want to talk, want to fuck you, Viggo, but alright… ah, relax, love, just open for me, soft and deep and sweet, it’s so sweet, isn’t it?” I was almost all the way in, shaking a little with the effort, the effort of going slow and not just fucking him through the mattress. “Let’s get that leg up a bit, hmmm,” I slid one hand beneath the crook of his knee and pulled it up and open, feeling him suddenly loosen around me—still tight as a vise, but my entry was smoother now, and I leaned back and pushed forward with my hips, groaning a bit with it until I buried, fully sheathed inside Viggo’s body. “Oh holy sweet Jesus,” I said, “you feel fucking perfect, Viggo, I’m gonna start slow, but Jesus, tell me I can go faster soon, because I just—” I pulled outward slowly, paused, pushed in again— “want—” another slow, smooth stroke— “t’fuck you.”

And then my rhythm was set, I was pushing forward smooth and sweet, again and again, feeling that ring of muscle clamped around my cock with every pull, every push. From this angle I could see the side of Viggo’s face, his expression almost blank, eyes half-open and gazing at Dom, then shut again as he exhaled. I could see part of Dom’s face, red and sweaty, eyes closed tightly as his head bobbed slowly and then faster up and down Viggo’s shaft. I craned my neck to see Dom’s hand working feverishly on his own cock, and I stifled a noise, some little sound of desperation. 

“Faster,” Viggo said, and I moaned right out loud and began moving faster. “So fucking good,” I grunted, and sped again, my hand gripping the tender skin under his knee as I slammed into him, feeling the impact vibrate through my balls. “Oh fuck Viggo so good,” I said again, mumbling, sweat beginning to run down my back and forehead, making my fingers slippery on his skin. “Wanna, wanna, ohhh, fuck—”

“Do it, Billy, I’m so close,” Viggo gasped, and he began pushing him back against me. I heard Dom’s moan and then closed it all out, clenched my eyes shut and fucked Viggo hard and fast, spilling sounds from my mouth with every slamming thrust until I heard him cry out, his voice higher than I’ve heard it before, and his whole body clamped down on my cock.

“Oh yeah fuck yes, come on now, come on,” I chanted, continuing to thrust through his shuddering.

I leaned up and watched as Dom’s head fell back, his mouth opened and he gasped and came, his hand gripping and jerking his cock. The sight of it brought my own peak on and I lurched forward, shoving myself into Viggo again and again as I came almost painfully hard.

I came to rest against Viggo’s back, my head bent and forehead glued there with sweat as my chest heaved. Viggo’s leg had fallen and when I cracked my eyes open I saw Dom sprawled limp on his other side, looking already asleep but for the faint smirk on his face.

“I think you’ve broken me,” Viggo mumbled. 

I snickered and rolled away to take the condom off and toss it away with relief, then I curled back into him. “That can’t be good.” I rubbed my nose contemplatively across his back. “The people of Gondor are gonna be pissed off.”

Dom groaned and sat up, only to turn so his head was by ours and flop down again. “Shut up. Sex done, sleep now.”

Viggo laughed, a rolling rumble from his toes on up, and kissed the back of Dom’s head affectionately. “Fucking hobbits.”

“Already did that,” I pointed out. “C’mon, you two great lummoxes, let’s get under the covers at least.”

Moaning and groaning and bitching and whinging ensued, but eventually we were settled under the duvet, Viggo still in the center. I felt his arms come around me and his legs tangle in mine, then a grunt as Dom draped himself half over Viggo. “Go easy on him, lad,” I sighed happily. “He may not know you have to sleep like you’re the quilt.”

“He c’n fucking well deal with it,” Dom slurred, and Viggo laughed again, his belly shaking against my back.

“M’fine. Shut up and go to sleep,” Viggo said.

I exhaled and smiled and closed my eyes. What can I say? I went willingly.


End file.
